Real Life
by oOOoEmilyMMonfortoOOo
Summary: I've been abused every single moment of my life since the day I was born, up until I met some people who made me feel whole. Who made me feel like family. And they weren't blood, but they were better than that. People say "blood is thicker than water", I think they have it reversed. With me, water is the thickest liquid there is, if we're comparing it to blood. I have no family.


I've been abused every single moment of my life since the day I was born, up until I met some people who made me feel whole. Who made me feel like family. And they weren't blood, but they were better than that. People say "blood is thicker than water", I think they have it reversed. With me, water is the thickest liquid there is, if we're comparing it to blood. I have no family, except the ones I've met online, or at school. First it started with my mom. She was pregnant with me, and she was HIV positive. She was exposing me to the disease. She was risking my life before I was even brought into the world. She refused the medication the doctors practically forced down her throat to keep me safe while in her womb. It's not that she didn't want to keep me safe, she was just to stubborn to realize what the better good for me was.

My mom has never been a stable person. Always some how ending up on her ass. She always needed attention (according to my dad). She craved it, like a boogey-man craves nightmares, or a vampire with blood. And apparently the only one who fell for her cries was her youngest daughter. One born 10 days after her birthday. On a cold, snowy Wednesday, a lot of new life was brought into the world. But only one seemed to matter to my parents. On February 24, 1999 at 11:56 am, I was brought into this world kicking and crying. Probably the same way I'll go out as well. I weighed 6 lbs. 6oz. My mother and father fought harshly over my name. My mom wanted me to be named Jean Madison Johnson, leaving my father with no choice in the name. My father, well, he wanted Hermione and for me to have his last name. He didn't care about the middle. So they went with my mother's choice of a first name for my middle. And there written on my birth certificate, Hermione Jean Granger. The name sort of rolls off the tongue. A name that fits. But that name, my name. Every time I'm forced to say it, it's like venom spilling from my tongue. A poison that disturbs my soul. This name and life was forced upon me. I had no choice in this.

My Mother at the age of 32, me only 2 years of age, had a severe stroke leaving her paralyzed on her left side. She had been brushing my hair into pigtails, humming a tune she'd sing me to sleep with. Her voice was laced with honey and kindness. Then she dropped. Almost screaming with pain, but she bit back the screams. I didn't know what was happening, the memory only a blur in the back of my mind, yet clear at the same time. I remember her crying on the floor, I placed her head in my small lap, taking the brush she had used to do my pigtails and combed it through her long blond hair. Humming her tune, while tears streaked her cheeks.

I would occasionally whisper to her while stroking her hair, "It's okay mommy. It's okay. Sleep mommy. Mommy tired. She needs to sleep." Her telling me that she couldn't sleep irritated me I guess, cause I went and complained to my Granny that Mommy wouldn't go to sleep. My Grandmother nearly knocked down the rocking chair shooting out of it so fast to reach the bathroom to find my mother collapsed. The next thing I remember, my mother was in the hospital, where she was way too much, cause eventually I collected the habit of saying mommy's house when ever we went to a hospital. I was constantly reminded by my father, that it was not mommy's house. But after my mother had her stroke, she woke up in the hospital having no remembrance of who I was. Who my father was. Who Justin, my older brother, or Felicha, my older sister was. She screamed for nurses to take us out of her room. My mother regained her memories, but still couldn't place my father. She barely remembered who I was. She went to rehab later that year, and she refused to let herself heal. She refused to keep going with life. She gave up. She got what she expected too. The pity she wanted. It came to her with ease. When I was 4, my grandfather died. Pappy. I don't remember to much of my pappy. Just empty memories of my mom curling up in his bed crying. I do remember the home video's he would take though. He took pride in us. His grandchildren.

He loved us with every ounce in his being. My mom, she was devastated that her father's life had came to an end. She didn't get out of bed for the longest of times, she had kids to take care of, but that didn't really seem to matter. We didn't seem to exist. I don't remember much from my grandfather's funeral, except my sister, Felicha, was sitting in the corner crying. Putting protective hands over the life she was growing within her womb. She was only 15, and pregnant. Her boyfriend had, had sex with her. He should have known better than to have sex with a minor. He was 18. He shouldn't have had sex with her. She could of had so much more with her life if she didn't get knocked up. She could have gone to college, had more time to find her one true soul, then get married... _**then **_have kids. Not have them when she was still one herself. But I guess you could say, it was a life lesson, and has made her into the better person she is today. She's now married to a great man, and she has 3 beautiful boys I'm happy to call my nephews. She had to kiss a lot of frogs to get to her prince. She's the happiest I've ever seen her. She had to put up with a lot of bullshit as well. I remember a lot of times her and mom fighting over stupid stuff. My Brother, Justin... My mom called him a bad egg. But she loved him so much, he was her first son, and the product of her late husband, Bryan. Bryan is the one who gave my mother her disease. It started as a small sighting of HIV. Then after a year AIDS. My mother has to constantly be reminded of her disease by taking her medication which sometimes she forgets so she doesn't HAVE to be reminded. It plagued her body, her mind, her heart. She gets so depressed it's unbearable to watch. My brother's dad died only a few months after he was born. When my brother was 16, he become a drug addict and dealer. He stole and sold my grandmother's vehicle and I'm probably guessing some of her jewelry as well to pay and gain the drugs he needed. He sold his own vehicle. And I'm also guessing if my mother's car wasn't such a piece of crap? He would have sold that too. But my brother has come along way since being 16. He was in a fantastic relationship with a older woman since the age of 17, she had 3 kids, but he loved them dearly. They split a year ago. I miss them. They have been part of the family for so long. He's now 22... or was it 23. Anyways, I love my big brother, he looks out for me and my baby brother, but we aren't there yet.

On my 5th birthday, I had came down with the Asian flu. It was extremely dangerous for me. I was so dehydrated that if you pinched my skin, it would stay in place. It wouldn't move. You couldn't see any color in my eyes, just my pupils. I was in the hospital for 2 weeks. Did I mention that it was exactly on my birthday that I was emiddited to the hospital? I was literally on the edge of death, I was so sick. It snowed, my mom came and stayed in the hospital with me. I used to ask her when I could go play in the snow. She used to say, "As soon as you're better, baby. I promise." I got a teddy bear named Taylor. I miss her. She was my first friend. I got a bunch of barbie cut outs to put paper clothes on. And enough balloons to fill my entire bedroom. As soon as I was discharged I ran outside, tripped and landed face first into the snow. I cried and didn't want to play in the snow anymore. Okay, now to the little bro.

Skip ahead 1 or 2 years in my life, I'm 6 or 7, mom has a new boyfriend. His name is Jason. I never liked him. You know how they say kids and animals are of best character? They're right. I hated Jason from the start, something about him made a sickening churn happen in my stomach. He had dated my mother for maybe 2 months before screwing her over. They had sex, just like normal humans. The urge over time, the hunger of lust and stupidity. He had gotten her pregnant, and he didn't like it. He abused my mother when he found out she was with child. _His _child. I was there when it happened. But it happened so fast, I thought it **didn't **happen. I remember running over to him screaming at him as he hit her stomach, her cradling it for dear life. I remember jumping onto his back hitting his head with my telly-tubby doll. He threw me off of him with no effort, almost like the wind blowing a piece of paper across a flat deserted area. He threw me fast and hard. Far too. He threw me to the other side of the room, my head bashing into the wooden stand that held our T.V. I blacked out, only waking with a monster headache. I also woke up to my mother covered in bruises, dried blood, and dried tears. Half the stuff in our house was gone. He took everything. Not just our furniture, but my mother's trust and faith in men. After Jason, my mother sort of always went towards men who would treat her like shit. I didn't understand why. Maybe cause that's the only type of guys she saw in her eyes. She didn't see the good ones.

Okay, I'm 7, my dad is taking me to the hospital. I'm going to most likely going to do dialogue now. "Daddy, where are we going?" He looks at me in my car seat in the rearview mirror. "Mommy had a baby." Obviously I had no clue, even though she told me millions of times. "A BABY?" I was so confused and excited. We got to the hospital, and we went to 'Mommy's' room. I got in there I saw my older brother and sister. They tackled me for a hug. I got tickled and thrown in the air. Fun. I saw my mom and climed in bed with her. "Is mommy okay?" She nodded, "Yes baby, Mommy's okay. Did you hear you have a baby brother?" I swear, I was a kid on Christmas. "Really?!" Mom laughed and hugged me, "Do you want to meet him?" I nodded and clapped my hands. Mom called for the nurse to bring in the baby. A woman in blue scrubs with teddy bears on them, wheeled in a little clear carriage type thing. Mom told me to go sit in the chair. I did as I was told. She handed me a pillow, and sat next to me. The nurse started to hand the baby to mom, but she shook her head and gestured towards me. "Okay, now hold your arm out like this. And place your hand right here." She was showing me the proper way to hold a baby. She then placed a alien like creature into my arms. But he was cute. "What's his name?" My mom played with the baby's hand with her good hand. (Because my mom had a stroke and refused to get physical help, she became physically handicap, and paralyzed in some areas of her body.) "His name is William. William Thomas Johnson." I looked at my little brother just in time to see him yawn. It was cute. I swear I make none of the next part up. I apparently petted his head, kissed his forehead and said, "Hi, William. I'm your big sister, Hermione. I love you already. I promise, I will love and protect you forever." And I do. I love him. He's my world. He's 8 now, and I haven't seen him since he was 4. I hope to see him soon. Sissy misses him. I used to change his diapers, feed him his formula, bath him, and sing him to bed. Mostly because mom couldn't. She was always tired so I took care of him. And I loved doing it.

Skip 3 years, I'm 10 now, and I have to move from Charlotte, North Carolina to Irmo South Carolina. I didn't really have a problem with that seeing I was always bullied at my school. I was a little over weight, and the kids were mean. I literally got kicked off a bus once by a student. The bus driver paid no attention... Come on! I was 8! Come on! Not gonna do anything Ms. Ashley? My babysitter Ms. Connie knew I was being bullied and walked down to the bus stop, she saw the kid's foot and yelled... from what I remember it went like this. I'm in like 3rd grade at Allenbrook Elementary School. Public school but we had to wear uniforms. White shirt and navy bottoms. I was getting of the bus with my Hannah Montana book bag, and I see my babysitter pissed walking fast as her heavy figure jiggles with each step trying to get there quick. She looks really angry and I try to figure out what 'I' did wrong. She pulls me off the bus and steps on to put her finger into the face of a black fifth grade boy's face. The bus driver told her she had no right to be on the bus and told her to get off, but she said it in choice words. Now, Ms. Connie was a lovely individual. I called her Nana. She loved me like her grandchildren. She told the bus driver and I quote. "Shut the hell up. I should be yelling at your stupid ass and not his, for not doing your job right. So if you don't won't me to report you, I highly suggest you just sit there quietly young lady." The bus driver scoffed and leaned in her seat. I swear was about to slap her. She put her finger back into the boy's face. "What is your name, young man?" He scoffed and told her he didn't have to tell her anything. She got pissed and yanked him up out of his seat by the collar. He had the fear of god in him right then. "NOW." His name was Daeshawn. "Daeshawn, if I ever see you try to touch that little girl again, I will put my foot so far up your ass my big toe will be poking out of your nose. Do I make myself clear?" He nodded.

"Give me your phone number." He looked at her, "Why?" She looked at him like he was stupid. "Because I am going to call your parents." He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "YOUR NUMBER NOW!" He took out a piece of paper and pencil and wrote down 'a' number. She searched her body for her phone. "Hermione, you go into the house and tell Ciara to give you my cell phone, then bring it out here. Understand." I nodded, "Yes, Ma'am." I ran. Ciara is 's daughter, she has another one. Her name is Jessica. I like Jessica. We used to hang out in her room, she made me try on her old clothes saying how cute I was in them. Jessica was 17 and pregnant. Ciara has two kids. Anaya, and Tyler. Jessica had a baby girl, her name is Ameia, she's like 5 now, and Jessica is pregnant and married to the babies' father. I came back and handed her phone. She stood there, and I saw the boy's face when she started dialing. He looked scared. I could hear the person on the other line say, "Thank you for calling Papa Johns. How may we help you." She was pissed. "Daeshawn, I said your parents number. And I swear to the lord himself... if you do not give it to me this instant I will go to your school and request a meeting with your parents and the principal. The bus driver decided to pipe in, "Is she your granddaughter or something." Ms. Connie shook her head, "No but she is in my care, and I love her to death. I take care of her, just like one of my own." Daeshawn had tears coming out of his eyes when he gave her the real number. She called it. I heard a "hello?" on the other end. "Hi, is this Daeshawn's mother?" Ms. Connie didn't talk to his mom, he talked to the 'GRANDMOM', which Daeshawn hated even more. I got an apology a few days later. But like I said, I got bullied a lot. I literally almost always refused to tell my dad when I got bullied. He'd always involve the police. It was ridiculous.

We moved to Irmo, and I was enrolled into Harbison West Elementary School. New girl. Yay. I made friends. And I developed a crush on a boy name Joseph Weststine. He was in special Ed. But I didn't care. He was sweet. I even wrote him a song. Okay.. I wrote this in 5th grade so no hate.

'I woke up this morning and looked in the mirror and when I saw the sparkle in my eyes. I knew I was in love. In love. I knew I was in love, with you.

I got dressed, went to school. Headed to the bathroom, then I saw you. You make me smile, a mile. And there's nothing you can do, cause I'm in love with you. I'm in love with.

You ride the bus, I ride the car. It's like we're so far apart,' and I don't remember the rest.

I got on the AB honor roll for the first time, 3 100's and 1 92. And I got perfect attendance twice. I felt proud of myself. After Harbison west I went to Crossroad's Middle School. And of course I developed a crush. Again. His name was Jordan Warlick. He was a jerk. I don't know why I liked him. Maybe I was following after my mom's handy work? I don't know.

I liked school though I failed a lot of my classes. My math teacher, Mr. McCook, by the way he looked exactly like Bill Nye, acted like Jim Carrey. And he did what Barrack Obama does when doing a speech. But he did this when explaining math. He tutored me. I liked him. He was my favorite teacher. Of course at the end of the school year, because of my grades my dad had a choice to hold me back. Which he did. So i repeated the sixth grade. By the way? Crossroads was literally a school just for sixth graders. Weird right? I would always go to the guidance counselors office to see Ms. Westberry. I love her. She's just like a Nana. I was her favorite student. It made my day when she gave me peppermints. Okay, so I repeat sixth grade. I ask for gym all year round and I join Girl's on Track. I got into shape. I, AGAIN, had a crush. His name was Giovanni Iannone. Strange name right? I don't care. He was cute. He kind of looked like Vladimir Tod. Well, almost towards the end of sixth grade, we have to move. Again. And I was sad. Cause during the time which I lived in South Carolina. I met this really cool chick that lived just up the road. Okay... another story time.

It was like, the middle of the summer. I was going into the 6th grade for the first time. I'm hanging out with my friends Evan and Shamar. Evan was 3 years younger than me and Shamar was only 2 years younger. I lived in duplexes, and I was the only girl in the neighborhood since a girl (whose name I can not remember anymore) Wait, her name was Meosha. Sounds exactly as spell. Me-O-Sha. Evan was my neighbor, and best friend. Shamar was a friend as well, but he liked to steal my food and movies and insult me. One day, Shamar decided we were going to act. (LARPing- Live Action Role Play) Me and Evan were Vampires and Shamar was a werewolf and there was a war. I think that's why I like drama so much. Anyways, we see a girl in a blue top, a skirt, black leggings and a flat hat riding her bike in a circle at the top of her street. "Why doesn't she just come down here?" The guys shrugged, and we continued to larp. One day I see the girl, a tall black man (whose name I learned was RJ) and a girl name Jullia ( I became good friends with her in 6th grade.) I go up to them as they play basketball. Later in life I learned that I looked trashy in what I was wearing. I had a blue tank top on with shorts and flip flops. Apparently my bra straps were showing. I walked up to her and stuck my hand out. She looked at it like it was an alien. "I'm Hermione, who are you?" She took the hand with a confused look on her face and said, "I'm Ronnie." I smiled at the new friend I had just made. "What's your last name?" She gave the ball to the man and pulled her hair away from her face. "Tranger."

I did a double take. "How do you spell that?" She shrugged, "T-R-A-N-G-E-R." "Oh my gosh! My last name is Granger. G-R-A-N-G-E-R." We were inseparable. We figured out that both are middle names started with a J. Hers was Jessica. Both our mom's middle name was Lane. She had 2 brothers and 1 sister. But later in life she found out she actually has 2 brothers and 2 sisters. We had this thing in the summer where we spent the night at each others house for a month straight. One night at my house, one night at her house. It worked cause she was only 7 houses down. We grew even closer when her mom kicked her out of the house. Ms. Lisa was kind of an drunk. She married a guy with a lot of money, so to some people it came off as she was a gold digger. A few months after Ronnie got kicked out, something happened. December 19, 2011. I was sitting on my bed watching My wife and kids when I heard an ambulance wale and stop fairly close by. I didn't think anything of it, until the next morning I got a phone call from a sobbing and hysterical Ronnie. It's 8:36 am, and this is the exact time cause I can't forget none of the details that happened that week even if I wanted to. Ronnie called the house cause I didn't have a cell phone. I answered in a groggy voice. "Hello?" I hear a sobbing Ronnie, "Hermione?" I smile and stretch, "Hey girl what's up?" I hear her sob again, and I sit up, the first sob not registering in my mind. "Hey! What's wrong?" There was a very long pregnant pause before I heard her take a shaky breath and tell me something that made my world grow dark.

"My mom's dead." Actually just thinking of the events. I'm crying right now. It's sad I know. It happened 4 almost 5 years ago, but Ms. Lisa was my mom's best friend and she was a mom away from mom. I laughed tears forming in my eyes. "You're joking right? This is a prank." I heard her sob, and I felt myself break down. I don't really remember what happened next but I do remember her telling me that she called me earlier and I was gonna be the first person she was gonna tell, because of how close we were. We were family. But I was asleep so she called Arianna. A friend of ours. I remember running down stair and telling my dad. I broke down and cried. Ms. Lisa also did drugs, she woke up at 9 o'clock, got up from her bed where her new husband slept. But shoes on, grabbed her coat and her wallet and went across the street to get a Little Casers Pizza. She didn't really look before walking and a 75 year old woman hit Ms. Lisa with her car at 9:39 pm. The woman didn't really stay, no one got a liscence plate. It was a hit and run. I heard the sirens. And I felt something weird in my stomach twist that night, and I thought nothing of it. Ms. Lisa's funeral was held at her chuch, December 23, 2011. Everyone showed up. Ms. Lisa's ex boyfriend Tim, Who screamed, "I love you Lisa" during the funeral. The vice principal, and all of Ronnie's teacher's came. Her brother, Alex, drove up to South Carolina from Texas. Ronnie was quiet for weeks.

Ronnie had to clean out their house. Me, Kintasia (another close friend of ours), Evan and Shamar, stood in the yard, hoping to get a glimpse of Ronnie. She saw us, and walked outside. This pissed off our friends, but she came straight up to us, and threw her arms around me and cried. I just rubbed her back and hugged her back. I asked her if she wanted me to help her clean. She nodded, not caring what her grandparents thought. (Her grandparents didn't like me very well.)

The last day I was in South Carolina, I went to Ronnie's grandparents house, which was just down the street. I asked her grandparents if I could see her. My dad said 5 minutes, but 5 turned into 60. We took goofy pictures, and exchanged gifts to remember each other by. She gave me a feather necklace. Very pretty. I gave her my stuffed piggy, and a vibrant purple scarf. I still have the stuffed flower that the piggy once held. She told me a year later, that the day I left, she watched me walk down the road and cried.

I moved from South Carolina to Murfreesboro Tennessee. New girl again. Yay. But I'll continue this on another chapter.

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><p><strong>(AN: **What if I told you, that this is MY story. That all of this is true? That writing it, and making it into someone else's life, kind of gives me some kind of peace from all the anxiety? I saw one of the reviews, and it told me that it was pitiful to use Hermione to tell my story. 1) It's literally_ my story. _2) A lot of people actually use characters to tell there story. They just don't tell you. If I could get help? I would. But I can't. I'm the new girl in a new town. I don't even have my own room yet. I only live with my dad. And there are some things in my life, I didn't put in the story, cause they were to horrible. So to the girl who told me to get help? I can't. I've asked. My dad doesn't think I need it. He doesn't see my depression. He only asks, what the hell do you have to be sad about? Writing is my therapy. And I'm gonna keep writing this story. And I hope it pisses you off. **)**


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